What He Really Meant
by Daethule
Summary: My take on what the Fellowship would have been like without Legolas. Do not read if you hate character deaths! mahaha.


**A/N: **This is my take on what the Fellowship would be like without Legolas. If you don't like Character Death, DO NOT READ THIS!!

**What He Really Meant: Legolas**

One by one they fell. It began near Moria, with the Warg attack. There had been no Elvish bow to sing doom to those who dared venture too close to the Company.

They fought bravely, and managed to kill all the wolves, but not before one of the Eight Walkers perished. It was Samwise who fell there, body never to be found.

One life's loss weighed heavily on the hearts of the Company, and they did not expect to lose any more, especially not so soon.

But they did, this time Meriadoc and Peregrin in their brave attempt to take down the cave troll. They had managed to get in several good stabs to its neck before the beast threw them off.

It was a most horrific sight for the rest of the Fellowship to see their small bodies trampled by the enormous creature.

Again, there was no arrow--painstakingly carved from the finest wood, with hand-carved arrowhead and fletched with utmost care--to fell the troll by a shot to the brain.

Boromir and Gimli together had managed to disable the beast long enough for what was left of the small group to make their getaway.

Pursued into the mammoth hall and surrounded by a sea of orcs, there was no way they could survive for very long. It had all been for nothing. The long trek from Imladris, the failed attempt over Caradhras, the deaths of Sam, Merry, and Pippin...for nothing.

They suddenly found the orcs' screeches changing from ones of glee to terror. It was a welcome, if not expected, turn for the Fellowship.

Until they realized it was a Balrog.

Fleeing as fast as they could along the passages, none noticed the sudden drop-off until it was too late. Boromir desperately fought for his balance as he skidded toward the edge, and had almost won it back, when a sudden loud rumble from the hall shook the whole cavern. He plummeted downwards before the others could reach him.

The road through Moria had already lost them half of the Company.

The remaining four suddenly came upon a great gap in the stairs they were descending. It seemed Illúvatar had finally smiled down on them for a short while, as the gap was not too large to jump across.

Gandalf leapt first, then Aragorn threw Frodo to the Wizard's waiting arms. He reached for Gimli, but the Dwarf stubbornly protested being tossed.

Aragorn was about to reply when a sharp pain suddenly made itself known in his arm. He looked down at the arrow now embedded firmly halfway down his forearm, then back up to search for the beast that had caused it. Orc archers. Aragorn moaned. Even had his small bow been able to shoot that far, he now could not hope to use it, what with his injury.

Gimli now insisted that the ranger cross first. Aragorn did so, painfully jostling the arrow, still in his arm, when he landed. He quickly yanked it out and threw it aside.

The Dwarf attempted the jump, only to find himself a few inches too short, with his boots now resting on the edge. His arms flailed wildly, trying to find something, anything, to grab onto before he fell.

Seeing this, Aragorn thrust out his right arm by pure instinct. Unfortunately, this was the same arm with the injury. He stifled a cry of pain as Gimli latched on, causing them both to stumble.

This was just enough to send the dwarf plummeting downwards, but Aragorn had somehow managed to catch himself before he also fell.

All this had happened in a matter of seconds.

Gandalf, Frodo, and Aragorn were forced to flee ever onwards, despite the numbness that had slowly crept over all of them.

The Balrog suddenly rose up from a deep cavern and pursued them quickly. Gandalf turned to face the Flame of Udûn once the two other members were safely over the Bridge.

Things were finally starting to look hopeful as Gandalf cast the demon into the abyss below. But suddenly, as a last trick of evil, the Balrog's fiery whip snaked out and caught Gandalf around the knees, pulling him downward. He had only time enough to command them to fly before surrendering his hold on the edge and following after his foe.

Frodo, in his folly, ran to the edge, all the while screaming the old Istari's name in denial. He slowly sank to his knees, sobbing and cursing the fates, until he felt something move underneath him. At first he thought that he had simply imagined it, until it happened again, more pronounced this time.

He looked up in shock to see Aragorn wide-eyed, who had also apparently noticed. The ranger had just time enough to scream out a warning before the section of bridge he was kneeling on gave way.

That had all been days ago, for all Aragorn could tell. One could not determine the passage of time accurately when underground, especially when one was unconscious nearly half the time.

First it had been Sam, then Merry, Pippin, Boromir, Gimli, Gandalf, and then latest, the Ringbearer himself. Aragorn hoped that the Ring would be lost forever somewhere in the deeps of Khazad-dûm, but knew that It would not stay hidden forever. But with the Ring gone for now, eventually to be found by some force of Evil, and the once-Future King of Men in the hands of Orcs, one would not see much hope for Middle-earth.

And one would be right.

THE END

reviews as well as flames are welcomed, as long as there are no curse words. if there are, i will be forced to delete the review/flame. thank you, come again! 


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